Victory
by Subtlynice
Summary: Death is a small price to pay for a victory against the Capitol. The final scene of the arena from Peeta's perspective. Katniss/Peeta.


**Victory**

"_Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."_

One winner. Only one.

Katniss.

Well, I suppose that's it. Time for me to bow out. Maybe I could ask for one last kiss – for the sake of the audience of course.

"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," I say, breaking our silence. I'm surprised to hear how calm my voice is, even as I stand. Maybe it's because what I say is the truth. This is the way the Hunger Games work. The producers study our weaknesses, learn our strengths and slowly beat us all to the ground until the audience is satisfied with yet another year's bloodshed. For the Capitol to allow a dual win, they would also be admitting defeat.

Katniss doesn't move as I pick myself up off the ground. She seems to be in shock, as if she really believed that we would be an exception to the one steadfast rule of the Games. Everything is still now. The silence is strangely comforting. It's just Katniss and I. For a while, I can forget about the millions of cameras trained on us in this moment.

She meets my eyes, and I know now what I must do. I take a step towards her pulling my knife from its sheath as I do so, but before I know what has happened, before the knife has even left my hand, she steps back and quick as lightening has an arrow pointing straight at my heart.

I almost smile. An arrow to the heart. How fitting.

The knife I've thrown hits the water with a loud splash. Katniss doesn't move, though I can tell that she's realised her mistake. The bow is still aimed at my chest. Her face is still hard and cold.

And that' s when I realise the truth. Katniss never loved me. All those kisses, those words which I dared to hope were real… they were staged for the audience, just as I had pretended mine were.

Strangely enough, as this sinks in I find I'm relieved. It's a good thing. Because now she won't have any qualms about killing me and I won't have to kill her. I raise an eyebrow. Daring her to do it. Daring her to get it over with.

And then the weapon in her hands clutters to the ground at our feet.

"No," I say, scrambling down to my knees and shoving the weapon back into her arms. "Do it."

But even as I speak, I know she won't. She'll drag this out until the very end because although Katniss has killed in these games, she's not a killer. She has so much strength, so much presence, and though she tries to hide it, she has so much heart. I've seen it – seen it in the way she nursed me back to health, in her smile whenever anybody mentions her sister Prim, and in the sadness in her eyes when she talks about Rue. She couldn't have killed Rue, and she won't kill me. No matter how much I beg for it.

"I can't," she says. "I won't."

One thing is for sure. Only one can survive, and it sure as hell won't be me, not while Katniss is still breathing. I can't even begin to imagine the only other option – surviving in Katniss's place. It's too painful to even think about. To die by her hands in this moment would be an act of mercy.

"Do it," I insist again. "Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato."

The weapon is in her arms but her grip is slack and I'm holding it there. We're so close now that the point of the arrow is jabbing into my chest. I look into her grey eyes – I want them to be the very last thing I see. She stares back at me, horrified. The fight had completely drained out of her, but with my words, it's back again and she's fighting with full force. Only this time, she's not fighting for herself. She shoves the silver bow away with apparent disgust.

"Then you shoot me. You shoot me and go home and live with it!" she shouts, anger flaring up. I can tell she really means it – she won't be putting me out of my misery any time soon. I chuck the bow to the ground, since it's obvious that it'll be no use to either of us now.

"You know I can't," I say. She holds my stare and it's clear that neither of us will relent. I think back to the mutt attack with a shudder.

"Fine," I say, and I bend down to tear the bandage from my leg – blood has already begun to stain it since Katniss patched the wound up. I know I don't have much time left. "I'll go first anyway."

I can feel the warm blood sliding down my leg as I ease myself back into a standing position, ignoring the pain as I look back to her. It's a nice feeling – to be weak, to be dying and see Katniss, so full of life, looking up at me. My mother was right – she's a survivor after all. She made my job of protecting her almost easy. Katniss wasn't a typical damsel in distress. She fought back.

And she's still fighting now.

"No, you _can't_ kill yourself," she tells me. She bends down and tries in vain to re-cover my wound. She's fighting for me now, and it's kind of nice. As much as I hope she'll get over my death, it's still good to feel wanted. Maybe if I ask, she'll sing for me, like she sang for Rue. I've always loved her voice...

She's still fiddling with the makeshift bandage, but it's getting more soaked in my blood by the second. It's impossible for her to fix it now. Pretty soon I'll be gone. She's going too... blurring in and out of focus, just like the glittering lake behind her...

"No, no, no, no, no," she's sobbing, blood staining her lap as she tries futilely to save me. I don't think she even knows what she's saying. I reach down to stop her fumbling and she squeezes my hand, clutching it determinedly.

"Katniss, it's what I want," I tell her. I've prepared myself for death already. It's all I've been working towards in this arena. Ever since my first session with Haymitch when we planned Katniss' victory together. And I always knew the consequences. For Katniss to win... I would have to die. I've accepted that. _ I've never been a contender in these games anyway._

But Katniss still can't accept it. And she's shaking her head. "You're not leaving me here alone," she says. She sounds so scared, like she's the one dying in this arena. And she sounds so lonely. She's not the girl who was on fire anymore. She's just Katniss. She's only sixteen-years-old, and just like me, she's terrified.

I use her hand as leverage and waste a load of my remaining energy pulling her to her feet, but it's important. We have to be face-to-face for what I'm about to do.

"Listen," I say, bracing myself to spill my guts. I figure, since I'm dying, I may as well let her know just how taken I am with her. "We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me."

She starts to shake her head before I've even begun to speak, but at my last words she freezes, wide-eyed. I seize my chance and continue.

"Just hear me out," I beg, and then I'm off again before I can bring myself to regret it. "Katniss, I love you. I'm pretty sure I've loved you all my life, ever since that first day of school, and I can't live without you, not now, not ever. This was always the plan, don't you see that? It's okay, I want to die. Life without you... I don't want that. It doesn't even make any sense to me, but this... right here... dying for you is the only thing that makes any sense anymore, Katniss. So please, just let me – "

She moves so quickly that her fingers are blurred – or maybe that's just the blood loss catching up with me. Either way, by the time I realise what she's doing, it's almost too late. Her hands are on the pouch at her belt, and I know what's inside. The berries we collected earlier. Nightlock. The _poisonous_ berries which killed Foxface.

"No," I protest, clutching her wrist weakly. "I won't let you."

She looks up at me with fire in her eyes. A thousand memories swarm back to me; Katniss wearing red and singing the Valley song in a clear, melodic voice... Katniss weak and thin, rummaging fruitlessly through our rubbish bins... locking eyes with Katniss on a thousand different occasions at school... hearing her sister's name called at the Reaping... hearing mine... watching her twirl around in a dazzling dress of orange and gold...

"Trust me," she whispers.

Her eyes are still so full of fire. Flames licking up and engulfing me in their wake. Trust her? I have no choice but to trust her. She's already burnt my resistance to the ashy ground.

I let go of her hand and she releases the deadly berries from their pouch. She tips a few into my cupped hands, and I think for a minute that she's given in and giving me an easy way out. And then she tips some into her hands too. And suddenly the world makes sense again.

"On the count of three?" she asks.

And I realise that I was wrong. Looking into her eyes now, hearing this final act of defiance, of rebellion… I can almost believe that she does love me after all.

"The count of three," I agree, as I lean in to kiss her lips one last time. She closes her eyes and smiles into the kiss before we part and move away. We're back-to-back, staring out across the arena. One hand is full of berries and my other is holding Katniss'.

I'm seeing the world through a fine sheen of mist now. Everything seems hazy. The blood dripping from my leg is just a red puddle. Nothing looks real. The gleaming Cornucopia is blurring in and out of focus. But I can still feel. I can feel the weight of the berries in my right hand, and Katniss' sweaty hand curled tight around my left one. I can feel the warm glow in my chest, spreading out, engulfing me in happiness. It's not quite as good as the prospect of Katniss' survival, but we're going to beat the Capitol at their own game. We'll make a statement and go out with a bang. And we'll go out together.

We're more than just a piece in their games.

"Hold them out. I want everyone to see," I tell her, stretchng my own hand out to attract the attention of the millions of glinting cameras surrounding us. She does the same, squeezing my hand as she begins her countdown.

"One," she says clearly. Her voice echoes around the arena.

"Two." I grin. The world is shifting sideways at an odd angle, but my feet are still securely on the floor. It's difficult not to collapse but I want to die standing, just like this. Standing up to the Capitol, with Katniss by my side.

"Three!"

_Victory_, I think, as I raise the berries to my lips. We may not live to reap in the rewards, but we're the first real winners since the Games began. I can almost hear the trumpets blaring now...

**~Fin.**

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A/N: Reviews are loved, as always. Let me know if you liked it.


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